The Proverbial Broom Closet
by Daon
Summary: Seamus Finnigan is not gay. At least, he doesn't think he is... That is, until he spots a certain boy hero who causes him to have second thoughts. -Re-writing, will delete old one when I can.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** I know that this is a story that is already posted – I wrote that version of The Proverbial Broom Closet as well, but I have lost my password to both that account and the email address associated with it. Thereby, when I decided to come back and re-write some of my old stories (Because let's face it, my old stuff sucked) I had to make a new account. I'll be re-writing this one, adding some chapters and generally smoothing it out so that it doesn't suck nearly so much. Enjoy!

All characters belong to the lovely Mrs. Rowling, who I believe lives in a beautiful house somewhere in England – and, as I do not, I can only assume that I can't be mistaken for her.

Harry Potter had an amazing arse.

Not that he had been…. Ya know… Looking or anything.

Seamus Finnigan didn't look at other men's arses, after all. Even so, he couldn't help but appreciate the way that the other Gryffindor had grown into his body over the summer. He had filled out considerably, no longer the short and scrawny boy of their youth. His skin was sun-kissed and he seemed to have put on an inch or two height wise. His clothes weren't nearly so baggy as had been his previous style, which Seamus had learned consisted mostly of old hand-me-downs from his rhino of a cousin. Instead, he wore a tailored emerald jumper – possibly of Mrs. Weasley's creation – and a pair of jeans that actually fit him. _And showed off his arse, _Seamus thought to himself, not for the first time this morning.

Yes, he had certainly come a long way from the short, thin boy of their fifth year. Seamus shook himself out of his stupor long enough to realize that he was standing in the middle of the platform, frowning to himself and pushing his trolley on down the train in search of an empty compartment. He couldn't help but wonder to himself exactly what possessed him to stare at another bloke for any length of time, especially for long enough to get caught up in the middle of a place like King's Cross. The Irishman quickly pushed the intruding thoughts away. _It was just an observation. Nothing to get caught up on. Even a perfectly straight bloke like yourself can acknowledge that his friend is attractive._ He told himself.

Half-way down the line, Seamus found (or rather, was pounced upon by) his best friend, Dean Thomas. The tall, African-American teen grinned broadly at him, helping him up off the floor and brushing him off before hauling him into the compartment that he had just been leaving.

"There you are!" Dean said, helping Seamus to stow his trunk in one of the overhead bins. "I was just about to come looking for you. How was your summer? Did you get your summer work done? I'm an inch short on that essay that Snape assigned us, I haven't got a clue on what to say. What did you write about?"

Seamus chuckled at his over-eager pal, giving his trunk one last shove to be sure that it wasn't going to topple out on their heads before he flopped unconventionally down across one of the seats. He spread out, being sure to take up as much room on the bench as he could so that no one else would invade 'his' space. "Whoa, slow down a minute, mate!" Seamus said, laughing. "I haven' even had time ta breath yet!"

Dean smirked, but stopped his endless questioning to give his friend time to settle in. He made himself comfortable on the seat opposite Seamus, propping his feet up on the edge of the other male's chair and giving him a look that dared him to object.

"Well then? How was your summer?" Dean pressed one the train gave a lurch and started off down the tracks.

Seamus shrugged, his eyes closed. "T'was alrigh'. Nothin' special." He replied in his thick accent, combing his sandy hair out of his face absently. If he were being truthful with himself, he was still somewhat caught up on why he had been so concerned about how attractive Harry Potter was. After all, there were plenty of lovely birds he could have been admiring in the amount of time he had wasted in checking out another bloke. Lavender Brown was always a treat on the eyes, and that Hermione Granger… well, she may have been insufferable to study with, but she gained quite the figure over the last few years, even he would be willing to admit.

Yet his mind just kept drifting to the way that those jeans had stretched across his friend's arse as he had stood across the platform from him, conversing with a group of red-haired people that could only have been the Weasleys.

The Irishman shook himself once again, pulling himself back into the present conversation. "And yours?" He questioned, opening the eyes that he hadn't realized he had shut so that he could cast a glance at his best friend. "How's your team going? Ya know, the muggle sock-ball one."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Soccer, Seamus. You'd think with your dad being a muggle you would know a little bit more about things like this." He muttered, shaking his head but grinning broadly none-the-less. If he were going to be honest, he found the other boy's mispronunciations endearing. Not that he would ever admit that to Seamus – he'd probably get punched for that. "And they're good – they're in the championship series this year!" He announced proudly, despite knowing that the other had asked purely for conversational purposes.

Seamus smiled, making an off comment about hoping they won before he was distracted by his thoughts once again.

Dean frowned. "What has you so preoccupied? I can smell your brain smoking from over here." He snarked, hoping to get a rise out of his friend. May as well have a little fun on the long ride to Hogwarts, yeah? Seamus blinked and shrugged. "Who's the lucky bird?" Dean pressed, pausing before he gave a sly grin. "Or dare I say, lad?"

Seamus gave his friend a confused glance, taking a moment to cotton on to what he was going on about before he seemed to understand. His expression darkened into a glare. "There is no she, and most certainly no he." He huffed, rolling over so that he was laying facing the back of the seat, and NOT his supposed best friend. He didn't want him to see the look of doubt on his face. _No. Not doubt. Anger. You're not gay._ He thought silently. "I'm not a fag."

He repeated it out loud for Dean's benefit.

"Are you telling me, or are you trying to convince yourself?" Dean questioned after a minute, confused by Seamus' behavior. Sure, the Irishman could be hot-headed at times, but he never acted as moody as he had been today. Surely something was going on, and if the way Seamus had bristled at the joke towards his sexuality, Dean could only assume that it had something to do with the subject matter.

But… No, that was ridiculous. Seamus had always been a player – a ladies man. He couldn't be having second thoughts about that, right? It just seemed to go against everything that the other man was.

"I'm not trying to convince anybody of anything. I'm just tired." Seamus replies sharply. Much more so than he had intended to. As he still had his back to the other male, he didn't see the puzzled expression that was being shot in his direction. He did, however, hear Dean get to his feet.

"Whatever, man. I'm going to go find the snack trolley – you want something?"

Seamus shook his head, and Dean left the compartment, sliding the door shut and effectively leaving the other male to his thoughts. Thoughts that were, thanks to Dean, much more confused that they had been before he had entered this damn train station.

**Well, that's it for the prologue – I've decided to break it up into chapters and build more of a lead up to their getting together. The first time I wrote this, it all seemed so slapped together, and I really didn't like how it all came to.

Not sure how many more chapters I'll add, but probably at least one to shove the rest of the story that's in the other version in – that's only if I don't get any people wanting more, that is. I'll add to if someone wants to read. ^^;

Anyways. Reviews are amazing, even the ones that tell me this sucked – so please leave one?


	2. Ch 1  I Must Be Dreaming

**Authors Note:** Those of you who subscribed to this, I'm sorry that it took so long to update; I've been having a huge case of writers block which I'm only just now recovering from. I hope to be able to update much more often in the future. Thank you everyone who reviewed and subscribed! Also, I apologize beforehand for the short chapter, but I'm trying to figure out just where I want to go with this. Any suggestions?

**All characters belong to Mrs. Rowling.**

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><p>Seamus jolted awake, his chest heaving. Taking in his surroundings – the heavy scarlet curtains, the faint sounds of his dorm mates snoring beyond them, and the sticky wetness that was beginning to dry over his chest and covers – he groaned, falling back against the covers.<p>

It wasn't his fault; if he were going to blame anyone for his current (or rather, previous) condition, it would be the dark haired boy currently in the bed closest to him. He had been unable to keep Harry Potter off of his mind since the first of September, when he had first begun to notice him on the platform. Why was he being punished for just looking! It wasn't as though he had been entertaining any sexual thoughts about his friend at the time. His mind, however, seemed to disagree, taking his slight interest in the other male's appearance to insert exactly what it thought of his 'just looking.'

And it seemed as though ever since that morning, he had seen more of Harry than he could remember ever having done before. Perhaps it was just his imagination – after all, they had shared dorms for years now, and they shared nearly the same schedule. However, ever since that first little peak at the train station, he was certainly taking much more notice of the Boy-Who-Lived than he would have though he could pay to another male. Pushing past one another in the bathroom as they got ready in the morning, sitting near one another at the Gryffindor table, joking on the way to class, playing wizards chess in the common room; These were thing that they had always done.

Perhaps he was just going crazy.

Seamus choked back a low sob even thinking about it. Why did all of this have to happen to him? He wasn't even gay! He had never even given a though about another man before, and now it was all that he could focus on. He couldn't be gay. It was vile and wrong – that was one of the few things he had learned from his muggle father that he still accepted.

A rustle to his left alerted him to someone else waking up, and he tried to reign in his panic as he banished away the mess on himself and the covers. No one else could know about what had brought on his sudden demotion back to a hormonal preteen. He couldn't even remember the last time that he had had a wet dream.

"Seamus?" A groggy voice questioned. Seamus relaxed slightly, but only just. Dean would be the most understanding of everyone, that he knew for sure. He still wasn't really ready to talk about this, but his best friend was at least someone who wouldn't laugh at him over his confusion and tears.

His curtains pulled back, and he felt more than saw the other boy as the mattress dipped beneath a dark silhouette in the night.

"Are you alright?" Dean had been awoken by what sounded like Seamus crying, but he really couldn't be sure. The Irishman was normally loud and boisterous, and entirely overconfident.

Seamus didn't answer. What would he say? He couldn't tell anyone about his doubts as towards his sexuality. Dean may have been his best friend, but if what his father had told him about gays was true, then Dean would doubtlessly reject him just as anyone else would. Instead, he scooted over to make room for the larger man, who made himself comfortable and didn't press the problem. He knew that Seamus would talk to him about it in his own time, and not a moment sooner.

Seamus turned over and buried his face in his friend's shoulder (In a totally not gay, manly fashion) and bit his lip to keep from making anymore noises while his (very masculine) tears came. Dean wrapped his arms around the Irishman's slim shoulders, comforting him as best as he could.

Dean had noticed that Seamus had been acting strangely lately, but it really wasn't his place to comment. He could understand that sometimes things just had to wait themselves out – including, apparently, things such as comforting someone over something you had little to no idea about.

After the other boy had calmed down enough to speak without choking, Dean leaned back to peer down at him questioningly. Although it was dark enough that Seamus couldn't see his face, the other seemed to know precisely what he was thinking.

"Why do things have to be so confusing?" Seamus questioned, his deep Irish brogue lilted by his now-raw throat. "It seems like just when things begin to make sense some shit has to come in and fuck things up."

Dean shrugged, though the corners of his mouth turned down and his worry for the other bloke increased exponentially. He wasn't completely sure just what Seamus was on about, but if it had his friend this upset then it couldn't be anything good.

"What happened?"

Seamus shook his head, taking a deep, unsteady breath before pulling back. "Nothing, really. I don't know what's come over me." He gave a shaky smile and wiped at his face, doing his best to shrug off what had to be Deans now burning curiosity.

Dean said nothing, but sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed before standing up.

"If you ever want to talk about it…" He trailed, studying Seamus in the meager light that was now beginning to flood the windows. The others would be getting up soon, anyways – it wouldn't do for them to find them in bed together. Seamus gave another shrug before Dean turned and moved off to get ready for the day's lessons.

What a wonderful way to start the day.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Once again, sorry for the short cruddy chapter, I'll try to get this up and running here pretty quick. Review, even if it's to tell me I suck?


	3. Ch 2 Under Pressure

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all who reviewed the last chapter! It seems to be garnering a little bit of positive response so far, and a little bit of help along to where I should go with it. If anyone else has any suggestions, feel free to pass them along. ^^ As a side note, I own many things – a laptop, some sketchbooks, a bunch of books and clothes – but sadly, the characters in these situations belong to a lovely Mrs. Rowling.

A special thanks to xbamboox, IkutoisSmexy, and katzlol. You guys are awesome for reviewing! I promised you guys that I would get this chapter up, so here it is.

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><p>Seamus had to tell someone.<p>

This constant avoidance was beginning to seriously wear on him. It had been only a few short weeks since the beginning of term and the 'Kings Cross Incident' as he had taken to calling it, and already he was driving himself mad. He had taken to waking up a good half an hour before anyone else in the Gryffindor sixth year dorm, just to be sure that none of his friends would catch him out having an inappropriate dream. This gave him adequate time to rid himself of his now daily morning 'problem,' as well as to bask in his own confusion and self pity for a bit before it would raise any questions. Then, as Neville would begin to stir to water his many plants, he would banish water mess was on his sheets and retreat into the shower for more contemplation and self ridicule.

His days were a shaky balancing act as he worked to concentrate on his schoolwork with the object of his affections a mere seat or two away. Harry's laugh drove him crazy, and the majority of his notes consisted of little doodles of too-big spectacles and lightning bolts. And he had admitted finally to himself that Harry Potter was most definitely the object of his affections; there was simply no way around it, just as there was simply nothing that he could do about it.

Lunch was spent staring moodily into his treacle tart, ignoring the looks of concern cast his way in favor of stabbing at random items on his plate in hopes of spearing through his problems instead of his food. Then, it was back to class to achieve little-to-no productivity before dinner and slouching his way to the common room, where he would do his absolute best to ignore Harry completely and to not stare at his gorgeous, delectable, (totally not gay) arse.

Yes, he certainly couldn't cart this around on his own shoulders. Seamus sighed as he glanced around the common room, squinting his eyes to see past the tiredness poking at their edges. Harry and Ron were playing chess by the fireside, where the black haired boy was losing spectacularly. Dean was sketching who knew what, though he did keep glancing over at Hermione telling the Weasley Twins off quite regularly, leading him to believe that the African boy was drawing Hermione's backside.

With a low sigh, he hefted himself to his feet, pushing his sandy hair out of his face as he mumbled an excuse about having to wake up early and started up the stairs. He disappeared up the staircase before he could notice the curious, slightly worried look that Hermione cast in his direction.

"I know that something is wrong." Hermione told him the next morning, plopping down rather ungracefully in the seat across from where he had retreated to in the library. The Irishman quirked an eyebrow, but couldn't work up the correct amount of enthusiasm to be seriously interested in the conversation they were about to have. Although a spark of worry did cut through him as he processed her words; what if she knew exactly what the problem was? What if she accused him of being gay and outed him to the entire school?

Perhaps he should be a little more concerned about the coming discussion than he had initially thought.

"Oh?" Seamus quipped. He glanced up at her through his fringe, waiting for her to continue.

"Yes. You're not acting like yourself anymore! You're so quiet – everyone is worried about you, especially Dean and Harry. You don't even pretend to flirt with Lavender anymore. Did you think that we wouldn't notice when you stopped trying to bed half of the school?" She rambled, her hands coming up to help iterate her emotions. She was obviously quite annoyed with his lack of usual behavior. He slumped, resting his forehead against the palms of his hands.

"Sorry?" He murmured, phrasing it much more like a question than an actual apology.

Hermoine nibbled on her bottom lip, contemplating on whether or not she should continue. Obviously what she was saying was upsetting Seamus, and it could only get worse if what she suspected was true of him. Maybe she shouldn't have brought it up. However, she certainly wasn't one to just go in half way and then back out – may as well just push on. The worst that could happen was that he denied it or he got more upset, either of which she was prepared to handle.

"It's not really your fault. I don't think that you expected us to notice quite so soon." She hesitated. "I mean, Harry doesn't know yet. He just thinks that you're worried about classwork."

Seamus glanced up slowly, frowning. "Harry doesn't know what yet?" He asked. He could feel his heart freezing up. No no no, this couldn't be happening.

"That you like him. It's okay, Seamus, it's no big deal – I'm sure that everyone would be more than supportive." She assured, trying to make up for just blurting things out in the middle of the library. A few people glanced their way, but it was quickly shoved off as non-important and they went about their business as usual.

Seamus, however, had a death grip on the edge of the library table, his face white. "How can you say that it's no big deal!" He gasped, not even bothering to deny it. Once Hermione had come to a conclusion, it could naturally be assumed she knew it was right. He hissed. "People aren't going to accept that I'm _gay_, Hermione! If Muggles won't even accept it, what makes you think that people here will?"

Hermione looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "Of course people in the wizarding world will accept you!" She answered, quite taken aback. Was this what he had been so worried about? She had just figured it was that he had a crush on her best friend, not that he had an intrinsic problem with his sexuality. Obviously he wasn't very well informed about wizarding traditions if this was what he had worried about. Then again, he wasn't nearly as interested in such things as she was, and he had lived with a muggle father. She supposed she could partially understand his denial.

He still seemed to doubt her, so she offered up an explanation.

"Look, Seamus. People in the wizarding world are much more open to people with different preferences – do you really think that, after being persecuted by muggles for so many years, that they would wish to alienate another group of people?"

Seamus paused. Her logic certainly did make sense; however, she was just as versed in wizarding culture as he was – perhaps even less, considering that he had at least grown up with a witch mother. She had grown up with two muggles, hadn't she?

"How can you even be sure?" He questioned. "Besides, even if it's not weird to be gay here, do you seriously expect Harry to react well? Oh yeah. Hey, Harry! Suddenly the Gryffindor ladies man is chasing a bit of ass, and you wouldn't even believe me if I told you it was yours!" He growled in frustration, running his hands through his hair in a gesture rather reminiscent of the object of their conversation.

"You'd be surprised at just how understanding some people can be." She replied, shaking her head at him as he grunted and returned to his reading. Apparently their conversation was over.

Hermione smiled knowingly, but didn't correct him. There was simply no point in it – Seamus would believe what he wanted to believe. She could only hope that things would work out for the both of them in the end – and she was sure it would, if it had just a little bit of help in the right direction.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Well, there it is! I have a vague idea where the next chapter or two is going, but after that, it's completely up in the air. Once again, suggestions are very welcome – almost as much as reviews!


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